The Little Things in Life

In many ways my experience in Africa can be described by a compilation of culturally specific idiosyncrasies—small things that are so integral to the make-up of Senegalese life that they could be easily overlooked.  But to an outsider these seemingly minute details are plainly apparent.

The daily occurrence of the most unexceptional task, the washing of rice, is the stimulant for my blog entry.  Taken from the large sacks, reminiscent of the China Town rice my Uncle Chuck used to bring for my mom, at its origin, the pure white rice is pockmarked with the blacks and browns of rocks, dirt and malformed kernels.  So each day the women can be seen sitting outside their compounds or in their hut kitchens, hand picking all the unwanted debris from that day’s lunch or dinner.  When finished, the rice is then ready to be washed—my favorite part.  Submerged in a pan of water, the water appears to be a milky substance, tantalizing when the only milk you get here is powdered and even that-once every couple of months if you’re lucky.  The women then repeatedly take handfuls of the rice and slowly let it pour back into the bucket, creating a white waterfall of thousands of rice grains.

While unfortunately bissap cannot be found in the States, here it thrives like a weed and it is often the only plant that can be found in gardens during the hot months of April-July.  These months are particularly trying food-wise and more often than in the wetter, colder months, meals consist of solely rice, a handful of beans and a chopped onion for seasoning.  But thankfully, bissap saves the day and while not adding much nutrition, certainly adds some flavor.  Placed in the center of the bowl, the Senegalese have perfected the careful mixing of the sauce with the rice and have made eating rice, something of an art form.  The thumb, index and middle finger swoop down from above like a bird catching its prey which then slows to a gentle scoop of the beuget sauce.  The fingers then move in a slow, contained upward arc until finally reaching the rice at the edge of the bowl.  With a flick of the wrist the sauce falls neatly on the rice in a perfect blend of greens and browns.

Coffee.  O coffee.  How I miss my strong, no sugar, no milk, no nothing coffee.  At home, if I drove by Dunkin Donuts and stupidly forgot to specify that I wanted nothing and then got a coffee with heaping spoonfuls of sugar, I wouldn’t even be able to drink it.  Here if I want coffee it’s sugar or nothing, and so I’ve actually come to like the sugar loaded Nescafe that I drink with my family every morning.  (fun fact-I don’t know where this began but my family at least believes that coffee can cure anything.  When I have a cold or a headache, they make me drink coffee.  Yesterday when I had a 103 fever they made me drink coffee and they attributed my two day fever to the fact that I hadn’t had my morning coffee on the fateful day of the onset of my virus).  Everyday I wake to the sounds of already roasted coffee beans being dubbed between mortar and pestle.  The pounding is my wake-up call, Senegalese life is starting and if I don’t want to look like a pampered American, I sure as hell better be out of my bed by 7.30.

It’s always fun trying to guess what we’re having for lunch.  While usually its rice with bissap sauce, on rare occasions we’ll have rice and fish, rice with a peanut sauce or even onion sauce.  Each meal has its own sounds and while not foolproof, the amount of sizzling emanating from the pot, can give away hints as to what we will be dining on.  One prolonged sizzle is usually rice with dried fish.  Three sizzles is rice, fish and vegetables and many sizzles can mean fish balls.  When it’s 12pm and you’re patiently awaiting lunch while sitting in the shade with your book, you have to find something to entertain you.

Since I arrived in this country 10 months ago, I have been washing my laundry by hand once a week.  This means that I have now gotten my hands wet 40 times and if I say so myself, I do a very good job at getting everything clean with my dish soap and bar of boutique soap.  But no matter how many times I wash my clothes-the proper sound of hand washing will always elude me.  I've tried to contort my hands every which way and still, I can not manage the squish-squelch sound that the Senegalese equate with proper clothes washing.  I can scrub, rinse and wring clothes clean, but without the sound I am woefully a novice at the art of hand washing laundry.

Imagine that you have no counter-tops in your kitchen. You have no table either and your floor is dirt and sand.  Welcome to a Senegalese women's life.  It's amazing how efficient they are with their time and resources and by far the cutting of onions amazes me the most.  With the onion in one hand and knife in the other they make 6 crisscross cuts that almost go all the way through the vegetable.  Then they dice the onion by cutting in a circular motion.  Although I can do this just fine now, when you first try to cut an onion in your hand, it is not easy!  Next time you are cooking a meal, try to prepare everything in your hands or a bowl on the floor.

On a day to day basis, women here wear pagnes or wrap skirts.  Easy to put on and adjust, allows for good air flow in the hot weather and can be used as a towel after bathing, pagnes are a good choice for African women.  What I love the most though is how women crouch or sit down on the ground while wearing their pagnes.  With legs shoulder width apart, they grab the front and back of the skirt between their legs with one hand, then its a fast swoop of the butt forward into an effortless squat/sit.

Cooking here requires a good deal of physical effort in this country and owing to this, Senegalese women have quite impressive biceps.  To prepare millet to be processed in the machines, women must first pound the grain with a mortar and pestle.  However this is no ordinary mortar and pestle.  The pestle is about the size of my entire body and usually two women each have a pestle and alternate pounding the millet.  They form a kind of dance, swaying their bodies back and forth, never missing a beat of pound, up, pound, down, pound, up, pound, down.

Does Boredom Inspire Poeticism (terrible poetry)?

I was bored one day and decided to write a poem about Senegalese women:

The Women of Coral

She is the beads of coral artfully spun from an unseemly bowl of water

coral represents the rice that is washed in a bowl everyday

She is the forest of green hiding among mountains of sand

the beautiful green women's gardens

She is the wind twirling its arms and legs through your hair, begging you to join her

women are always one step away from breaking into dance

She is the violently churning lake with wave upon wave of rainbow fish surfacing for heat stained air

washing clothes by hand

She is the boom of sugary thunder waking you from your dreams

being woken by the sounds of coffee beans crunching between mortar and pestle

She is the nature which has been lost, devoured

Save the forest, wind, water and storm; save the women of coral

trees have been cut, rivers dried up, climate change affected weather patterns all in the name of progress and as a nasty after-effect of colonialism, living off the land has acquired a new meaning

Package Ideas

If anyone is looking to send a package in the next couple of months:

I am starting a girl's group this month and some of the activities I want to do require things I can't get here:

-string and/or beads to make friendship bracelets
-popcorn seeds
-paint markers
-old magazines to make collages with
-needle and thread
-any other random craft you feel like sending
-soccer ball (can get here but terrible quality)
-plain hanes t-shirts
-wire to make jewelry

Also, Ramadan is just around the corner: July 19th to August 19th.  During Ramadan, Muslims fast from sun up to sun down which means I will get breakfast at 5am and dinner around 11pm.  Any food that is easily storable in my room would be fantastic so I can hide out and munch on some things so I don't lose consciousness during the day.  If you are looking to send something before Ramadan, you would need to send a package before June 19th.

Thank you!

Tree Lotion

After patiently waiting for months to learn how to make lotion, yesterday I finally led a training with my friend Mac.  As usual, before having any kind of gathering, I had walked around to people's houses for the previous week telling them what time and where the training would be.  That morning I walked to all the important people's houses and once again made sure everyone knew about the lotion session they had all requested.  As I was sitting with my family waiting for Mac to arrive, a Japanese volunteer-Awa Sow- I had just met, decided she wanted to stay and help with the training.  As a new volunteer she is still in the early stages of Wolof and I was appalled when my family kept telling her that she needed to bring large presents the next time she came and to do this and do that, most of this aimed at making a fool out of here because she couldn't understand .  It's one thing when my family does this to me, but an entirely different thing when they do this to a guest. 

After lunch me, Mac and Awa made our way over to the market where we had planned our training.  We were immediately surrounded by children who were so close they were basically sitting on my back.  And of course after waiting for an hour, no women had shown up.  Finally someone told us that most of the women were having coffee at a house in the village and that we should do our training there.  We walk in and of course there are 20 or so women drinking coffee (all of whom knew of the training and said they would be there).

We start the process and decide we'll talk to whoever's listening and the women who pay attention can teach eachother.  Thankfully those who are there are really interested and they listen well.  Overall about 35 women saw some part of the process and left with a sample.  The lotion we made is called Neem lotion and it not only smells good , but it also protects against malaria carrying mosquitoes.  Made with: 1 cup of water, 1 grated bar of soap, 1/3 cup cooking oil, 2 handfuls of Neem leaves and a few Eucalyptus leaves, it's extremely easy and cheap to make.

Overall with a few blips, the training was a success and I was happy until I got home where my mom, sisters and brother/counterpart (all of whom failed to show up) demanded lotion.  And then my brother, unable to drop the subject, told us we had to make him a batch the next day.  Don't worry, I refused.  I told him that if he wants things from me he has to support me, show up to trainings and listen just like everyone else.  Goodness.

A Close Encounter With a Senegalese Idiot

After a much needed three day rest at the Linguere office, I felt rejuvenated and ready to return to village.  Walking into the garage I noticed five men around the age of 30 sitting by the entrance.  So of course to be polite I made sure to greet all of them before walking over to my car and in good form one of the men returned my greeting with a huge smile and a matter of fact "Dafa naaw"--translation: "she is so ugly".  Mmm what a great early morning compliment.  I turn to this cocky son of a B and ask him--"Are you talking to me? Because if you are, that is just hilarious since you are the ugliest man I have ever seen."  He says yes, of course he is talking to me".  And so after a moment of contemplation over whether or not I have the energy to deal with this, I decide indeed I do.  So I throw down my bag in dramatic fashion, stride right up to him and go to hit him in the face, stopping an inch or so before contact, delighting in his flinch.  Then instead of letting him think he got to me, I laugh in his face, shake his hand and tell him he's an ass and to have a good day.

I pick up my bag and walk over to my friend Omar-the owner of the garage and he helps me find a car.  I'm sitting reading my book in the car and Omar turns to me laughing and says Idiot is simply an idiot who was attempting to flirt with me.  Maybe so.  Then idiot comes over to my door, stands uncomfortably close and begins a conversation (more one-sided than not). I inform him that I don't want to talk to him because he's awful and ugly to top it off.  But amazingly he fails to get the hint and he continues talking about his beautiful wife and the fact that I'm ugly.  Charming.  I also find out that he is my cousin, knows my family and is the older brother of the man who professes to be my boyfriend.  At this point I've had enough of talking to him so I push him away and shut the door in his face.  He walks away and I naively think this is the last I will see of him.

Right before we leave Omar asks me to step out of the car so another man can climb in the back.  As I'm standing with my bag in my arms, I don't notice Idiot walking behind me.  He walks by, touches my butt and keeps walking.  Then he turns back and smiles as I'm yelling at him.  I should have hit him while I had the chance!

While some Senegalese men like the Idiot are less than appealing, there are others who give me hope in Senegalese mankind--Assane Sayel--owner of a boutique in Dhara.  I was introduced to Assane by my friend Laura who told me that he was amazing and that he would never try to rip me off or treat me like a walking moneybag.

After not seeing him for awhile, I stopped by his shop in search of a cot.  Unfortunately he didn't have any but he told me where to go and how much to pay.  Then he invited me to sit away from the heavy glare of the sun and he served me ice cold water.  He asked me to stay so we could talk since I hadn't been by in awhile, so we sat and caught up while his apprentice sewed mattresses behind us.  He told me multiple times that I was a good person and that he was impressed by my strength.  He told me that he is happy when he sees women running and working hard because he believes women should be viewed as equals (not like they are treated here).  He also said I was brave and that it was important for me to experience the world so I can have knowledge of different cultures and languages, and also that he hopes to do the same.  He told me that he wants to help me in any way he can--whether that is bringing orders to my house, giving me a ride to St. Louis for the jazz fest, or coming to talk to my family or come get me if I ever have a problem in village.  Feeling uplifted by the compliments and assurances that I was doing good things in Senegal, I hopped on a horse cart to go home (after I promised to eat dinner with his family and play guitar and drums with him in the future).  On the cart I got a call from Assane asking me if I could eat lunch with his family, which alas I couldn't because I was already on my way home.

Although the morning didn't start out well, Assane and my favorite fabric store owner (who walked me all around the market asking people where I could find a cot) succeeded in canceling out Mr. Idiot's idiocy.

Recap of the First Quarter

       At six months into my service (eight months in Senegal) I feel like it’s time for a little recap.  Peace Corps  has thus far been the most exciting, eye-opening, inspiring, stressful as hell, challenging and life changing experience of my life…they weren’t joking when they said this is the hardest job you will ever love.  With conducting all of my work in a language completely foreign to English, being placed in a region dubbed “the last true Peace Corps experience in Senegal because all we have to rely on is eachother” by the Country Director, and also being the only agroforestry volunteer within 5 hours of me (there are at least 3 agfo volunteers in every other region)—Peace Corps sure handed me a challenge.  But while living in Kolda amid luscious green forests and waterfalls or having a site mate would be great, it’s kind of nice knowing that Peace Corps has the confidence to place me in one of the toughest areas of the country (especially for an ag volunteer given the climate and resources here), a place that needs all the help it can get.  On the really tough days, when the sun is setting and I should be sitting at home, I hide out in the field just to have a rare moment of privacy, peace and quiet…but then just as often when work is fantastic, I love lying on my family’s mat and just talking, playing with the kids and looking at the shooting stars.  As other volunteers describe it, Peace Corps Senegal is truly a minute by minute experience.

A few quick notes:

1.       If you haven’t read or if you have but read it awhile ago, read the Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver.  Not only is she an amazing writer, but it is incredible how well that book describes my life here.  Everything from the way she describes cooking to the gris-gris people wear.  If you want to get a better understanding of life in Senegal, please read it.  (although take note some major differences-we don’t have torrential rainfall here, there are no rivers near me, and unfortunately I do not get to eat manioc everyday)

2.       If you are interested in trying out some Senegalese cuisine: Bostoners check out Taranga’s in the South End and New Yorkers go to 116^th or 125^th streets in Harlem

If you really want to impress the restaurant owners try out these phrases (spelled out phonetically):

Asalam malakum (hello)….they will respond malakum salam

Nunga def (how are you)…response: mangee fee rekk. (I am here only)

Naka leegAy bee? (how is the work)…response: mungee doe (it’s going) or sant yalla boo bah (thank God a lot) or Jaam rekk (peace only)

Boog naa…(I want)

Jehrehjef (thank you)

Now for the good stuff:

Top 5 Things I Love Most About Senegal

1.       The fact that every time anyone walks into a boutique, a house, a car, etc., they always greet everyone

2.       I can walk into a random person’s compound at lunchtime and they will offer me delicious food

3.       I have camels in my backyard

4.       Not in my village, but when I am at the office or in Dhara, I can walk a minute out the door and there is a bean sandwich lady in the morning or a chicken sandwich lady at night-both of which cost less than $1

5.       Lying on the mat at the end of the night with my family and friends

Top 5 Things I Can’t Stand About Senegal:

1.       Women here are second class citizens who are expected to cook, clean and take care of the children every day without complaint and accept the fact that their husbands will most likely take a 2^nd, 3^rd or even 4^th wife

2.       The sense of time in Senegal: When a meeting is set to start at 9am, people will usually show up and get started at noon (that is not an exaggeration)

3.       Having little anonymity/privacy/independence: it would be so nice to be able to go for a run and not have to pause my music every time I pass any random person

4.       While on the topic of running-having to wear ankle length leggings with basketball shorts over them in 100 degree heat and still be called ‘sexy slutty’ when I run by an idiot riding by on a horse cart

5.       People assuming that I am rich and thus asking me for everything under the sun

Things I miss the most about America

1.       Family and friends so, so much!

2.       American food/nutritious food that isn’t 100% carbs/the fact that you can hop in your car, drive two minutes down the road and pretty much find any food you’re craving (although we do have fresh mangoes everywhere here-take that America!)

3.       Feeling clean.  My feet have not been totally clean in 8 months.

4.       A culture where people truly love and take care of animals.  Senegalese sense of fair animal treatment is throwing rocks at dogs and kicking cats (my 30 year old cousin sprints out of the compound if he even glimpses my tiny kitten)

5.       Dressing like a real person.  Not that I don’t love the ankle length skirts and hanes tank tops, but it would be so nice to be fashionable for a day

10 Most Memorable Moments in Senegal

1.       Finding out that I had amoebas living inside my body

2.       Sitting with my Linguere family on a ledge overlooking the ocean, watching the sunset and toasting Father Christmas

3.       Riding a camel in my backyard (and not falling!)

4.       On my first horse cart ride, climbing into the back with my friend Amanda and tipping the entire thing over and falling flat on the ground laughing my face off

5.       Every soccer practice with the men’s soccer team in my training village-playing in the sand with guys (for the most part) faster and stronger than me was by far the best workout of my life

6.       Giving my first training in Wolof to 50-150 people at a time

7.       Rapping beats about Senegal/singing Lean On Me at the top of our voices in the back of a pick up truck as we were pulling into Dahra

8.       Carving watermelon jack o’lanterns for Halloween at the training center

9.       The first day in my village-being left to the wolves by Peace Corps-50 women dancing and singing around me who I couldn’t understand, and then being told I had to eat a lunch of plain rice by myself in my room, facing away from the door (I have never missed home more)

10.   A random village day- we had maafe for lunch (my favorite meal), followed by spaghetti for dinner, followed by soccer matches at night…that was a great day. (the power of food here is boggling)

5 Top Favorite foods

1.       Maffe- a rice based dish with a thick peanut sauce that usually comes with cabbage, potatoes and sometimes cow meat

2.       Spaghetti, macaroni or vermicelli-nothing like we have at home, they cook it super duper mushy and cook it in a vinegar sauce with onions and sometimes meat

3.       Domuda- similar to maafe but a spicier, thinner sauce that sometimes comes with fish balls

4.       Tamarind-they make this amazing, vinegary, spicy concoction make out of Tamarind seeds…soo good!

5.       Mangos and Ardo vanilla yogurt-do I need to say more?

Hardest things I have had to see/work with

1.       On multiple occasions when I have been traveling, I have seen women with late stages of AIDS have to be lifted into the car because they are so sick and they are finally seeing a doctor

2.       Talibes that have no shoes to protect them from the hot sand and no coats to protect them from the cold

3.       Animals being abused, mistreated and/or beaten

4.       Women having very little freedom

5.       Finding people who are motivated to work and learn

Top Five Discoveries
      1.  Fish net cloth makes an awesome sifter when I am pounding cow poop

2.       I can get my whole body clean with half a bucket of water

3.       Beans with hard-boiled eggs, onion sauce, peas, mayonnaise, and mustard on a sandwich is heaven

4.       If you take 3 Benadryl before bed, it will help you sleep through unbearable heat

5.       When your kitten is convulsing it is probably because it ate too much salty fish and did not drink enough water-lesson learned

Top Five Times I’ve Wanted to Call You but couldn’t because I’m in Africa and Have No Credit

1.      I just saw a guy wearing a Red Sox jersey in Dahra…I have to call Mark and Tommy!

2.       I just went to St. Louis for the first time and I ate ice cream, a cheeseburger, pesto pasta,   candy bars, omelet sandwiches and meat….I have to call Anya!

3.       I just saw a woman riding a motorcycle with a guy on the back….I have to call Eliza!

4.       I just saw ‘How I Met Your Mother’ on a TV in French…I have to call Emma, Eliza and Jenny!

5.       I just got stood up for the third time, trying to have a meeting with my women’s group…I have to call mom!

Christmas 2012

Hi everyone! I hope you all had a great easter :) I know I did-mango easter hunt, birthday cake and Remember the Titans.

Right now I am trying to raise money to come home next Christmas so I can visit all of you. I know some of you had asked how you can donate so I thought I would send a little message about how you can help. As a PCV our living allowance is a bit small to be able to save up for a flight to the states so I am hoping to raise $2000 before December so I can see all of you for Christmas and New Years. I appreciate any donation-even if it's a dollar-it still makes a difference. Here is the website where you can donate and thank you to all of you who have already contributed to getting me home: http://www.gofundme.com/ahbvk! Thank you all and I look forward to seeing you in 8 months!

Love,
Erin

The Stone Step Ritual

Every night before bed, I sit on my stone doorstep and brush my teeth. Cup of water and toothbrush in hand, kitten perched on my shoulder, I feel comfort in the fact that each night I see and hear exactly the same things. Directly in front of me lie our five sheep and goats who at this time of night are either sleeping, munching on leftover dinner rice or suffering from an uncontrollable fit of sneezing. To my right is the sleeping figure of my brother Ouismane who can never make it past 9 o'clock and who often passes out before dinner. To my left is the 'Halloween Tree' as I like to think of it-with its gangly, leafless limbs flailing in the wind-looking as if it just climbed out of 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'. Outside my compound gates I can hear my older brothers and sisters recalling and laughing at all the things the funny Tubab did that day. And then directly above is the clearest night sky you've ever seen. With no earthly lights to distract from the lights above, it's easy to pick out every star and now and again to even see one or two falling through the sky. And as I'm looking up, I always seem to think of home (most likely because of the cliche that we all sleep under the same night sky...even if my night comes 4, 5 or even 6 hours before yours). But cliche or not, momentarily I forget where I am and the distant sounds of music, kids yelling, donkeys braying and goats making 'Dawn of the Dead' impressions fades and I feel at home.

Sorry! I don't know why my last post came out like that!

A Crazy Two Months

At this point in my service I’m so used to the question: “how long are you staying in Senegal for” and every time my answer has been, two years. Crazy to think that now I need to start saying less than a year and a half. This weekend I had to say goodbye for the first time to volunteers leaving for home. In April four volunteers from the Djolof will be done with their service: Anne Marie, Emily, Justin and Kim and one month later six new volunteers will be ready for their permament sites. It’s very weird seeing them go since first of all, I’ve only had the opportunity to know them for six months and secondly because they’ve been the mama and papa bears—the most seasoned of all of us, the most integrated, and the best to answer my questions about everything ranging from Wolof vocab to where to get the best food in Dakar. Looks like when May rolls around, I’ll be graduating from ‘fetus’ status to elementary school. My apologies for being so terrible at updating my blog. February through March was non-stop madness and life will continue to be that way until the end of April when tree nurseries are finished. But the good thing is, now I have a lot to write about :)

Trainings for Everyone

I spent the first half of February in Thies at the training center, learning everything about pruning, seed collection and processing, and a variety of other things that will definitely prove useful in my two years as an agroforestry volunteer. It was great to finally get some technical training under my belt and it was just in time to start tree nurseries the next month.

The day our training finished, Bonnie and I hopped in a sept place and rode six hours to our office in Linguere to prepare for our week long Moringa tourney. For future reference, tourney refers to multiple day trainings where we go to different villages to teach about subjects related to health, environmental education, agriculture, etc. We decided to visit 14 villages in our region to talk about the miracle tree-Moringa. The day before our tourney started, we were all busy perfecting our dances and skits, preparing our talks and painting visual aids. As the resident artist in my region (which is quite laughable since before Senegal my artwork was strictly doodles), I was in charge of designing all of the aids. It actually turned out to be a lot of fun and I ended up drawing pictures on how to cultivate the tree, how to make powder from its leaves and the nutritional content contained in the leaves, all on white sheets of fabric.
Each day we visited two to three villages and were gone from 8am to 6 or 7 at night. Long days but the tourney was by far my favorite thing I have done in country so far. On the first day, I woke up early to make my lunch: delicious tapalapa bread (soft village bread that resembles a baguette) stuffed with salad I had made the night before. Finding something to wrap my sandwich in was the hardest part—I settled on old newspaper. Bright and early, ten of us packed into the bed of the pickup...some sitting on the edges of the back, others curled up on the floor, but all of us wrapped tightly in scarves and sweatshirts to keep out the chilly wind.
Packed in with shovels, picks, mats, and our lunches we wrapped about Senegal and sang random songs as loudly as possible to distract ourselves from the cold. And as we had an out of towner with us (a volunteer from the North), we made sure to point out every single camel we passed (even though he has plenty of camels where he lives).

Here’s a little background about Moringa-it’s a non-native tree that grows extremely well in Senegal since its drought resistant and can grow in almost any type of soil (one of the few trees that actually thrives in my region). The tree is great for planting in fields as it is nitrogen fixing and can be used in live fencing, wind breaks and other agroforestry technologies. Most importantly, Moringa leaves are incredibly nutritious. To name a few, gram for gram Moringa leaves have equal calcium to 4 glasses of milk and has the same amount of vitamin C as four oranges. Moringa has the same amount of protein as one egg and the potassium of three bananas. As fruit and vegetables aren’t always easily accessible in Senegal, the point of our tourney was to promote the propogation of these trees. We taught villagers how to make powder out of the leaves which can be mixed in with any kind of food (even morning coffee) as it’s tasteless. (Reminds me a little bit of a Metamucil commercial).

The tourney was incredibly gratifying—seeing villagers laugh at our crazy skits and dances and seeing how interested they were when they asked all kinds of great questions. We started out our talks with skits about picky eaters who didn’t want to eat their vegetables, a mother who had a malnourished child, guys who didn’t have the energy to dance…until they ate some moringa, and ladies at the market selling fried dough rolled in moringa powder. It’s so funny seeing what Senegalese find humor in—the parts they found funniest involved a volunteer having farting problems and a woman crying about her malnourished child. Interesting. I think they found the malnourishment part so funny because they think it’s hilarious when we know
random Wolof and Pulaar words. After theater I led a discussion on how to cultivate Moringa
through tree nurseries or direct seeding. The first day was definitely a bit terrifying since it was my first experience with public speaking in another language. Surprisingly I managed to get everything out that I wanted to say and by the end of the tourney I felt completely confident
in what I was saying and it actually flowed! The best part of our talk was our beautifully choreographed dance (thank you Jenn and Fae). To the background music of Shakira’s ‘Waka Waka’ we incorporated all of Senegal’s favorite dances and added a little bit of American flare.
During our dance we sang:
“
Xam ngeen sap sap. Xam ngeen Nebedye.
Sap Sap
Neerxna, Nebedaye Neerxna. Neerxna tropp pur wergu yarum.”

[You all know Sap Sap. You all know Nebedaye. Sap Sap is delicious, Nebedaye is
delicious. Very delicious for
nutrition.]

For weeks after having the Moringa talk in our village, people in my village would chant “Sap Sap Sap Sap” every time they saw me and everyone-men, women and children have all been asking me for Moringa seeds and powder. It’s so exciting to get people interested and on board with something you are trying to promote. Overall our tourney was a success and I can’t wait until our next ones this summer—one focused on gardening which I will hopefully be organizing and another on proper hygiene.

A Tree for Everyone

Since now everyone in my village was excited about planting trees—especially Moringa, and as it was tree nursery season, I decided to spend an entire month with Jenn Cardno and Fae Patton filling tree sack after tree sack for our three villages. For an entire week before they arrived in my village, I sat on the step outside my room pounding cow poop with mortar and pestle and sifting it with a makeshift sifter, all while listening to Harry Potter on my ipod. While it was definitely tedious and an incredible arm workout, it was actually nice having something mindless to do for a few hours everyday (even if everyone thought I was crazy). For the first 10 days of March, the three of us prepared as much manure as possible, collected Neem leaves and ash to use as an organic pesticide and ate delicious food my family made in honor of our visitors. (Seriously it was the best food I’d eaten in my village since I’ve been here—two days of macaroni, plenty of maafe and domuda (peanut and tomato sauced rice), fish balls, rice veggies and fish and plenty of coffee to go around)—I really need to have visitors more often!

For our first tree nursery I decided that I wanted 200 tree sacks filled in the women’s garden
closest to my house. So after visiting the president of the group three times to make sure she and the other women would be there, and after talking to as many women as I could, I managed to get almost all of the women to come to tree nursery day (although all of them were at least 45 minutes late…there is no such thing as being on time here). While me, Jenn and Fae dug and prepared the bed we had women sitting around pans full of manure and sand, filling tree
sacks. Surprisingly, they were all very happy to help and for the most part, did a good job. I think part of the reason that they worked so hard was due to the fact that we promised singing and dancing when we were finished. So as promised, we started out with our ‘Waka Waka’ song and dance and amazingly, all the women started jumping in. It all digressed into my women reproducing all of the skits that we had done during our Moringa talk. I was so happy that I almost cried—the fact that they had paid that close of attention and had loved our talk so much
was inspiring.

The next day we enlisted the help of some random boys to help us carry our super heavy bags of manure to the other women’s garden a little farther into my village. These women were also fantastic and filled tree sacks with smiles and no complaints (except for the 5 minute fit about how they wanted fruit trees—which don’t really stand a chance in our climate). After filling 200 more sacks, we celebrated again with singing, dancing and skits.

Finally on the last day of tree nurseries, we traveled to the next village over, Medina to work with the Marabout’s son Assane and his helpers. While we managed to fill close to 300 sacks, this day was by far the most stressful of the three. As Assane had to keep leaving for two hour prayers and we didn’t have a steady base of helpers, it became very frustrating at times trying to monitor of team of young kids. Thankfully we managed to get everything we wanted finished and we were treated to sodas, two lunches and couscous with sugary milk for dinner—almost worth the nine hour crazy work day.

From Thiamene, we left for Jenn’s village of Mboula, a two hour car ride into the bush. Bush cars are basically large pick-up trucks with wood planks latched to the back to use as benches. The only way for us to get to four of the villages in our region is to take one of these cars-hanging off
the sides of trucks, ducking thorny tree branches and squinting our eyes against sand and stray pebbles that shoot up from the tires. In Mboula we worked with Jenn’s womens group, and just as in my village, the women were all fantastic and willing to help. In a couple hours we managed to fill 100 tree sacks in a beautifully dug bed. On the non tree sacking days we created visual aids, skits and talks about nutrition to present to middle school students in her village. The talk was a hit and all of the kids were eager to answer our questions and ask some of their own, and most of laughed at our attempted humor. The best part was that they really seemed to understand what we were teaching them (success for us as sometimes our Wolof can be hard for them to understand) and after we were done, the teachers reviewed everything we said while using our visual aids. Just like the Moringa tourney, it was so gratifying being able to teach village kids something new, as well as give them a break from their usual lessons.

After Mboula we jumped back on the bush car and headed to Fae’s village—Mboulekeh. Fae decided that she wanted a 1000 tree project at the high school to be her big goal for her service so we arrived with a lot on our plate. After having gone through the process twice by that point, we kind of knew what we were doing and Mboulekeh turned out to be a lot easier than either Thiamene or Mboula. The first few days we collected our poop which turned out to be a piece
of cake since we found a compound that exclusively kept cows. We were able to go into the pen and shovel up the soil which was 99% stepped on and powdered poop. Such a time saver-thank you fat cows! We had planned on filling tree sacks to take four days in village, but with a lot of
help from students and teachers we were able to fill 600 sacks on the first day and last 400 on the second day. For the most part the teachers were fantastic at organizing the students into teams of mixing the manure with water and filling tree sacks and in no time we had 5
tree nurseries filled. The best part was coming back to the high school after lunch on the first day. The three of us had decided to get the rest of our beds dug (The most labor intensive part) early so that we wouldn’t have to rush. After a nap and a walk in terrible heat, none of us really felt like picking up shovels, so when we arrived and saw Fae’s brother, a teacher and another high school student with two beds dug, we were absolutely ecstatic.

Lessons learned from my first tree nurseries: 1. Make sure
to find a house that has manure already pounded 2. If that can’t be found, soak
poop in water the night before…makes it a hell of a lot easier to pound 3. Make
sure to have a solid base of workers to help with filling sacks 3. Get the
digging and prep done early so you don’t have to rush 4. Bring lots and lots of
cold water

Ba Beneen Yoon Super Stagers (Until Next Time)
After a month spent in village, we finally arrived in Linguere ready to die for a couple days with movies, food and some much needed wine sacks. While nice to finally relax, there was a bit of a somber mood in the house as we were having a party to say goodbye to four volunteers leaving for home.

Luckily the day of the party, all four seniors were out of the house finishing up an AIDS project they had been working on so we had full secrecy to make our feast. We decided on onion rings, fried peppers, stuffed peppers, hummus, macaroni salad, bean dip, cakes, alphabet pretzels and pickles—all homemade. We had enough food to feed an army (luckily we are one).
With the help of Jenn and Fae, I designed fabric posters featuring camels eating yogurt trees (which we all signed), in celebration of our regional rap “Yogurt Camels” to the beat of “Black and Yellow”. We spent the night eating delicious food, drinking gissap (gin mixed with bissap juice…which we also made ourselves), playing trivia and other games and watching videos of our four fabulous senior volunteers. There were contests to decide who had the longest tongue, African dancing, an hour of time where we all got sick, and amazing Queso dip which the missionaries brought over. I still can’t believe that four of our group is already leaving and that six newbies will be here in a month! Kim, Emily, Ann Marie and Justin have been like mama and papa bears to the Linguere region and they’ve been our go to’s for all our questions and our roll models in how to be completely integrated and successful as a volunteer. It’s sad and scary to say goodbye but I’m ready to become a mama bear for another new volunteer.

When I return to village tomorrow I’ll have 1,000 tree sacks left to fill before I retreat to mini America again for my birthday on the 4th and this time I feel relaxed and confident that I can get it all done. April will be just as crazy as February and March but I like it better that way. I
like being busy and getting work done and it certainly makes the time fly by. To give you an idea of what my schedule is like in Senegal, here is what my next couple months look like:

March 27th-April 3rd: Fill 100 more tree sacks in women’s garden #1, 250 more in Medina and 750 at the health post in Thiamene

April 4th: head to Linguere simply so I can spend my birthday watching movies, skyping and
eating good food

April 5th: Help with a large garden/farming training at the field in Linguere

April 6th: Head out into the bush to Yang Yang for the delivery of a brand new ambulance to the health post

April 7th-9th: Back to Linguere to celebrate my birthday with other volunteers and prepare for
meetings. Leave for Thies at midnight on the 9th

April 10th-14th: In Thies for my agroforestry summit (all agfo volunteers get together for a conference at the training center)

April 14th: Head back to Linguere for a party for the new volunteers visiting their permanent homes for the first time

April 15th-the end of the month: Seed all 2,000 tree sacks in the four tree nurseries and start planning what the hell I’m going to do for the hot season months (when it gets in the 130s everyday :)

Here are some highlights from the months of Febraury and March:

· Driving a half an hour into the bush to find a random tree in the middle of nowhere to have a picnic under. All 14 of us camped out with our assorted lunches of boiled eggs, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, salads, cliff bars…

· During this picnic-going on a quest to knock down boabob fruit so Jono could try it for the first time (this involved me getting on his shoulders and whacking at the fruit)
· Singing “Ain’t no Mountain High” at the top of our lungs while sitting on the back of the pickup truck as we rolled into the city of Dahra early in the morning

· My baby brothers Ouismane and Ahmed rocking some broken shades

· Getting to lunch bowl early in Jenn’s village…realizing it was rice and chicken…silently and spontaneously dancing at our luck

· In one month having sphaghetti four times, countless boissons and fatayas and plenty of bissap juice

· Getting completely and irreversibly hooked on True Blood and GLEE (we made it through all four seasons of True Blood in about 10 days).

· My little brother Ada Sow repeatedly saying my cats name—Issa Sow with the cutest high pitched voice ever.

· Making Tubab gris-gris. Gris-gris is jewelry that a religious leader has blessed to ward off anything from jumping snakes to knife attacks. We decided to braid fabric together to wear
as anklets. Mine wards off scorpions (Fae got stung by one in my village), Fae’s wards of sumpo canja-a particularly disgusting Senegalese dish, and Jenn’s wards of bugs of all kinds.

· Riding a camel in my backyard!

· Seeing dogs in holes on our permaculture field trip
Love you all, thanks for reading, talk to y’all soon!

Cheers,
Tubab Erin

Who's The Tubab?

Tubab [too.bab] the last syllable sometimes followed by [eh] making [too.bab.eh] N. 1. Foreigner 2. Person with light toned skin 3. White person 4. A person who is not a habitant of host country 5. Peace Corps Volunteers

Being the only tubab and also the only white person (although if I wear the right clothing I have once or twice passed for a Mauritanian-although Mauritanians are still considered tubabs) in my village, one of two Americans within a 4km radius and 1 of 5 within a 10km radius, I stick out as sorely as the lone carrot in a bowl full of ceeb (rice). And for those who don't yet know my name (any variation of Mariama), when I run into town and past the garage which is unfortunately teeming with cocky teenage and my age boys, walk through the market or visit with families in my village, there is always a resounding "Tubab!" that follows in my wake. Some, actually most people have no idea why I'm actually here so here are my thoughts on what's going through people's minds (or coming out of their mouths) concerning the matter of my reasons for being in the Djolof of West Africa. While some people-like my counterparts, family for the most part, school director, etc., already know the main reasons I'm here, part of my goal as a PCV is to share my goals and culture so the Senegalese have a better understanding of Americans and vice versa. So while for now, there is still need for some disillusioning, I hope I can change that over the next two years.

Ndiaga (my older brother and counterpart): Of course I know why she's here-she's going to plant trees in Thiamene and every village within 5km. She'll give us fruit trees (maybe an orchard Inchallah) and she's going to make our women's gardens flourish. Since she played with the Brazilian national team, she's going to whip our men's soccer team into shape and start a team for girls. And she's going to help us plant lots of Moringa trees which by the way have over 20 different vitamins in its leaves.

Abby, Alsane, Haddee (my older sisters): Sure, Sure, she's here for all of that, but most importantly she's here so we can make her as fat as possible so her family back home and all of America can see how great Senegal is. She's here to eat two lunches and dinners of rice and couscous and sometimes fish everyday and if she dares to leave the bowl before its all gone, we'll be sure she knows that she'll have no hope of getting fat if she doesn't eat until the bowl is done. The fatter the better :)

The Two Teenage Girls Who Attempted To Accost Me On My Run Through The Bush: Obviously she's here to hand out money. All tubabs are rich so why else would she be here. I don't think she understands wolof though since she sprinted away when we reached for her backpack.

Woman Who Owns The Beanstand In Dahra: Her hair is so long and curly and black like mine and I'm pretty sure she's here to either chop off all her hair to give to me as a seriche (present) or at the very least to give me her miracle shampoo (which she said she bought at the boutique on the corner...I don't believe her).

Every women age 8-92: Uh-Uh. She's here to be our entertainment. Everything she says in wolof is hilarious and she's supposed to dance for us on command so we can laugh some more. We don't understand why she'll only dance when we dance with her...that's no fun.

Little girls at the gamou (Muslim version of a revival) in Medina: Well, we think she's here to button all of our jean jackets when it starts to get cold. She's the best jean coat buttoner we've ever seen!

Every Single Person Who Sees Me On My Bike: Her bike is so "Nice" and she can ride to the market and home so much faster than our donkey and horse carts. I'm sure the next time I ask her where her bike is she's going to go getit and give it to me.

The Men At The Beanstand: She's an American tubab eh? Well even though I'm 83, and I'm 11, we're obviously prime marriage material. So if I tell her right off the bat, while she has a mouthful of beans, that I love her, she'll want to marry me, she'll take me to America, and she'll probably pay for my bean sandwich too.

Everyone Who Hears Me Speak English: O she's french. No? Must be Spanish. Italian? Portuguese? Aha American! Then clearly she's here to teach us English. If we ask her often enough, she'll definitely come to my house and teach me everything-even if she's still learning wolof and can't understand me that well.

And Going Off The Last One-My All Time Favorite: No, No, she's here to teach us a phrase or two. She doesn't have all the time in the world to sit down and teach us English. She is hear to plant trees remember. Here I'll teach you the few she's taught us so far: Director of the school and my tutor: "Dafa Ngelaw": It is windy: now how he translates it: "The wine is blowing". My older sister: after hearing me say "O My God" more than once and asking what it meant (I told her it meant yes! as in an exclamation): "Oi ma Gaww". My older brother: he wanted to know how to say "Maangiy xole ay gertes": I am shelling peanuts: how he pronounces it "I'm selling penis". *Now I better understand why I'm constantly laughed at for my wolof-I could be saying things as funny as 'I'm selling penis' and not even know it.

Although right now there are a lot of people who don't know who I am, where I come from and what I'm doing here, over the next two years I hope to get to know them better and hopefully all of us will learn something from eachother and even grow a little bit (so long as those 14 year old girls don't catch me by the backpack on my runs...thank God I run fast :)